THE
STORY OF A NEEDLE
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[Illustration:
A black stream was flowing down on the carpet.
_Page 32._
]
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THE STORY OF A NEEDLE
❧ BY A. L. O. E.
LONDON, EDINBURGH,
DUBLIN, AND NEW YORK
THOMAS NELSON
AND SONS
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_CONTENTS_
_THE STORY OF A NEEDLE_:—
_I._ _My Education_ 9
_II._ _My First Adventure_ 14
_III._ _Conversation in a Work-box_ 21
_IV._ _A Mother’s Delights_ 26
_V._ _A Perfect Metal_ 35
_VI._ _A Piece of Mischief_ 40
_VII._ _The Lively Metal_ 48
_VIII._ _Packing the Box_ 54
_IX._ _Gold on a Dark Ground_ 63
_X._ _The School-boy’s Return_ 72
_XI._ _Home Hints_ 79
_XII._ _The Story of a Needle and a 90
Compass_
_XIII._ _Gold brought to the Proof_ 100
_XIV._ _Conclusion_ 111
──────────
_GLORY_ 120
_THE VICTORY_ 130
_BEARING BURDENS_ 147
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_LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS_
_A black stream was flowing down on the _Frontispiece_
carpet_
_“Mamma, please, will you lay down the hem 27
for me?” said Lily_
_Eddy was delighted with his teacher_ 80
_Eddy tells his story_ 116
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THE STORY OF A NEEDLE.
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CHAPTER I.
MY EDUCATION.
I REALLY can say nothing of my earliest days except from report. I have
heard, but I can hardly believe it, that I was once part of a rough mass
of iron ore, that had lain for ages in a dark mine in Cornwall; that I
was dug out, and put into a huge furnace, and heated till I became
red-hot, and melted; that I was made into part of an iron bar, and when
in a fiery glow was suddenly plunged into cold water, which changed my
whole constitution and name, for iron was thenceforth called steel. I
can just fancy how the water fizzed and hissed, and how my fiery flush
faded suddenly away, and I became again quite black in the face! I can
fancy all this, as I said, but I really remember nothing about it.
Nor have I any recollection of being drawn out into wire, forced to push
myself through little holes, smaller and smaller, till I was long enough
and slim enough for the purpose for which the manufacturer designed me.
My very earliest remembrance is of finding myself lying on an anvil,
along with thousands of others of my species. But you must not fancy me
then, gentle reader, in the least like the neat, trim, bright little
article that now has the pleasure of addressing you. I fancy that I
looked uncommonly like a bit of steel wire, neither useful nor
ornamental.
While I lay quietly reflecting in a kind of dull, sleepy doze, for at
that time I was not sharp at all, a violent blow on one end of me
startled me not a little—I had been hit on that side as flat as a
pancake!
“What next?” thought I. I had little time for thinking. I was popped
into the fire in a minute, but taken out again before I had time to
melt. Then down came another blow upon me, which had quite a different
effect from the first. It pierced out a little hole in my flat head, and
I received the advantage of having an eye. No sooner did I possess it
than I began to use it. I peered around me with much curiosity, now on
the long brick building in which I found myself; now on the rough
care-worn faces of the workmen, reddened by the glow of the fire-light;
now on the multitude of baby needles around me, all looking up with
their little round eyes.
I was now placed upon a block of lead, and my eye was punched to bring
out the little bit of steel, which was neither tidy nor convenient.
Then, to improve the shape of my flat head, it was filed a little on
both sides.
I felt now tolerably well satisfied with myself—something like a child
(for I have since seen a good deal of the world) when it has mastered
the first difficulties of learning, and begins to fancy itself a genius.
But there was a good deal more of filing, and heating, and polishing
before me; education is a slow and troublesome matter, whether to
children or needles!
I am afraid that I should tire you, dear reader, were I to give you the
whole story of how I was filed into a point; how I thought the file
hard, disagreeable, and rough, as many young folk have thought their
teachers; how I was then heated in a fire till I grew as red as naughty
boys who have been caned by their master; then left to cool in a basin
of cold water, like the same boys shut up to think over the matter.
Then I and a number of my companions were held in a shovel over the
fire, and stirred about, and then straightened with blows of the hammer.
I thought that I must now be quite perfect; but never was needle more
mistaken. How could I go through linen, cloth, and silk—how could young
gentlemen and ladies go through the world—without a proper degree of
polish! Thousands of us were put on a piece of buckram sprinkled with
emery dust; more emery dust was thrown over us, and then a small
quantity of oil; for I wish that every teacher would remember that
though the emery of discipline is necessary enough, it works best when
laid on with the sweet oil of kindness.
Oh, if I could only describe the rolling backwards and forwards, the
rubbing and scrubbing again and again, the washing, the wiping, the
smoothing on a stone, thought necessary to complete a good needle!
Depend upon it, dear reader, your reading and writing, your sums and
your tables, nay, even the terrible dog’s-eared grammar, are nothing to
what the smallest needle must go through before it is fit to appear in
the world!
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